


A kiss...

by Wrathofscribbles



Series: Kisses... [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16143653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: ... without motive.





	A kiss...

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.
> 
> If this looks familiar to you, that's because it is. This used to be part of a multi-chapter pain-in-my ass, but I've decided to take that down and make every chapter a standalone oneshot. Apologies for any confusion caused.
> 
> Prompts are from [this list](https://wrathofscribbles.tumblr.com/post/177169224758/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a).

Cor is like a shadow when Nyx warps, following along right behind him as though he can trace the unseen rope thrown through that place _other_  to get between points A and B.  He stalks the length of it and waits at the end, the perfect mask of his face cracking just enough for the curve of lip and glimmer of amusement in the ice of his eyes, and then his hands are on Nyx with bruising strength, following through the momentum of the warp to send him crashing off course and into the practice mats set aside for this very reason, rather than the training dummy he’d been targeting.

It’s not the first time Cor’s been there, watching and waiting with all the patience of a coeurl about to electrocute its next meal.  It’s not the first time Cor’s been able to track his path, even when he throws in some random directions and some _height_  to try and get around his guard.  Without fail his head will turn in the direction Nyx passes through the plane of existence where rules of reality don’t seem to apply, those eyes will find his when he breaks out of the magic’s hold in a shower of sparks and bright embers, and even if Cor stands as immovable as the trees he used to scale as a kid he _knows_  he could’ve been there, right there, at the place where the warp ends in a scorch of earth and a whiff of ozone, ready to pluck the kukri right out of his hand.

And he knows Cor well enough to recognise that smirk, that infuriatingly rare thing with the knowledge of a hundred lifetimes buried in it.  Cor knows he’s noticed, but the bastard won’t say anything about it, leaving Nyx to march up to him once he’s found his feet again and plant a finger squarely in the middle of his chest, annoyed and intrigued in equal measure.

“You use magic as well,” he states, because it’s so fucking _obvious_  and how he never noticed before is a black mark to his name for sure.

A hand splayed wide at his collarbone, fisting in the material of his vest and tugging him forward ‘til there’s no space between them, Cor’s voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down his spine.  “There’s more to the King’s magic than what you can _see_ , Ulric,” and those eyes flicker a bright, _vivid_  red for a split second, just long enough to make the fine hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end, and then there’s a mouth against his and teeth on his lip and _heat_ everywhere their bodies touch.  He forgets his next question in the storm of it all, giving as good as he gets, a dark curl of desire in his gut when Cor _moans_  for him, stumbles back a step, two, yielding to Nyx’s lead until he’s backed up against a wall -

Nyx can ask about the magic thing later.


End file.
